


turn me back into the pet i was when we met

by eruthiel



Category: Bell Book and Candle (1958)
Genre: 1950s, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Explicit Language, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Memory Magic, Non-Graphic Violence, Non-Linear Narrative, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27452074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eruthiel/pseuds/eruthiel
Summary: When Nicky accidentally falls in love, he takes extreme measures to get out of it.
Relationships: Nicky Holroyd/Sidney Redlitch
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	turn me back into the pet i was when we met

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [New Slang by the Shins.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vIJhYBtnsEU)
> 
> Writing this was... weird and challenging! But I hope it makes sense and you enjoy it! ♥

"Do you want a drink, darling?"

"Mm, yes please." Gil drapes herself across the couch and kicks off her shoes. "How about we crack into that scotch Sidney gave us?"

"You read my mind. I've been thinking about that scotch ever since breakfast." Shep looks around the drinks cabinet, frowns, wanders to the kitchen. "I don't know why I even bothered taking time off for Christmas. The work just stacked up and now I'm breaking my back to catch up. I may as well have just pushed on through."

"Ah, but darling. It wasn't just Christmas. It was our anniversary."

"I'd rather not measure from the night we met," Shep calls from where he's rifling through the cabinets. "That was a false start! It doesn't count."

"Darling, what are you doing?"

"I'm looking for the scotch. I don't see it anywhere."

"Did you check the drinks cabinet?"

"You just saw me check the drinks cabinet, Gil, it's not there."

Gil gets up and checks for herself. "It's not there," she confirms, blinking in surprise.

"I told you," Shep shrugs. "Where did it go? You don't think he…"

"Un-gifted it? He wouldn't."

"If anyone would," Shep grimaces, "Sidney would."

"But why? Why wouldn't he just go out and buy some more?"

"One, it's cold out there. Two, and I say this with love, he's a nut. Three, maybe Nicky finally burned through all his cash."

Gil sighs and heads for the staircase. "Well, let's go and ask."

"Whoa, whoa, Gil! Slow down!" Shep scuttles after her. "What are you gonna say? 'Evening Sid, remember that nice bottle of gin you gave us just the other day, well, are you enough of a hopeless drunk to break in and steal it back?'"

Gil's already climbing the stairs. "I don't see why not," she calls over her shoulder. "We have to start somewhere."

Seeing the decision has already been made, Shep sighs and climbs the stairs to join her. They both stand there in the hallway for a minute, looking at the door to Nicky and Sidney's apartment in silence. Gil knocks again, but there's no response.

"Nicky?" she calls. "Sidney? Are you boys home?"

She puts her hand on the door and pushes; it swings open.

"Nicky...?"

The apartment has been gutted. From the doorway they can see empty spaces in the dust where furniture, books and empty bottles once cluttered the living room. Stunned, Gil and Shep wander through to Sidney's study, which is completely empty.

The only things left in the apartment are Nicky's, and not even all of them: his phonograph, his typewriter, his old bongos, his new congas, a few of his old records and herbs and magazines. Almost everything else is gone.

Shep turns to Gil, open-mouthed. "Burglars?"

Gil frowns. "Either that, or Sidney's cleared out."

"But he wouldn't do that, would he? Not without saying goodbye?"

"I don't know. Maybe if he had another really bad fight with Nicky."

"We would have heard something. Wouldn't we?" Shep shakes his head. "Gosh, I know they were having a few problems lately, but I just can't believe it…"

"Neither can I." Gil looks sharply from corner to corner, half expecting her brother to jump out and cackle at just another one of his pranks. "I don't like this, Shep. Something's off here."

"I'll say. Maybe Queenie heard something?"

Gil nods and stalks to the door. She cranes her head up the stairs and shouts. "Auntie! Auntie, can you come out here, please?"

A minute later, the door to the top floor apartment swings open. Queenie stands there in her slippers and dressing gown, peering nervously down the stairs. "Hullo, Gil. What's the matter?"

"Nicky and Sidney are gone."

"Oh, dear." Queenie's voice sounds thin and forced. "Well, I'm sure they just went out dancing, didn't they? That wouldn't be so strange for them, would it?"

"It wouldn't," Shep agrees, "except they've taken half their furniture with them."

Gil adds, "You didn't hear anything, did you? Did they have another fight?"

Queenie dithers for a moment. "I… I'm not sure."

Gil slowly starts climbing the stairs. "Auntie," she says, quietly. "Where did they go?"

"I don't know!"

"You do know. And you're trying to keep it from us. Why?"

Queenie shrinks back against her apartment door as Gil comes closer. "I promised Nicky," she whispers, "I promised him I wouldn't tell you until it was over."

Gil narrows her eyes. "Until what was over?"

"He knew you wouldn't like it. He didn't want you interfering."

"All the more reason to tell me," Gil hisses. "Tell me, Queenie. Tell me where my baby brother is. Don't make me ask again."

* * *

Once Nicky learned how to cry, he found he was very good at it. He threw himself down on Gil's couch (which hurt, because his ribs were cracked) and sobbed while she fixed him a whiskey and orange. "What -- what am I g-gonna do, Gil?"

"The only thing you can do, dear. When you're in love…"

"But I -- I don't wanna be in love! I want to be me again! I w-want everything to go back to the way it was!" Wiping the tears and snot from his chin, Nicky sat up and accepted the glass. He took a sip and pulled a face. "Oh god, he's ruined whiskey for me. He's ruined everything for me!"

"Stop being such a baby."

Nicky forced himself to stop crying long enough to take another sip. With his breathing back under control, he wiped his red eyes and turned them mournfully on his sister. Quieter now, he asked, "What's it like?"

Gil sat down beside him, toying with her own glass. "It's different," she admitted. "It's not better or worse. It's just different."

"And that's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes. I got the change I was looking for."

"Uh-huh, well, I'm not looking for change. I never was. I was perfectly happy with my life before he came along."

Gil arched her eyebrows. "If you were perfectly happy, you never would have fallen in with him in the first place. You wanted his money, remember? You got greedy, and now you're paying the price."

"But I never meant for it to get so personal!"

"You should have thought of that before you let him fuck you."

Nicky's eyes started leaking again. "How can you be so heartless?"

"Oh, now I'm heartless? I'm the one arguing in favour of love."

"You don't even like him! You’re always telling me all the reasons I should ditch him!"

"Trust me, not a day goes by that I don't regret summoning him."

"Tell me again," Nicky begged. "Tell me how he's a drunk and a slob and a creep, a-and it makes me look cheap when I date men twice my age. And, and, he's not really such a good writer. And he's just manipulating my need for attention, and he's making me fat…"

"Nicky…"

"And he'll have me turning tricks for liquor as soon as the money runs out. But this time I'll listen, I promise, this time you'll make me understand!"

Gil sighed and took Nicky's hand in hers. "I've said some pretty cruel things, haven't I? Unfortunately… even if you really believed them all… it wouldn't do you any good. Take it from me. I tried every reasonable argument to make myself fall out of love with Shep."

"You did?"

"Mm-hm. But love isn't a streetlamp. You can't just turn it off whenever you feel like it."

Nicky put his glass down and curled up against Gil, burying his bruised face in her shoulder. "What am I going to do?" he croaked. "What's going to happen to me?"

He felt Gil's warm hand move soothingly up and down his back. "It's out of your hands," she murmured. "This is what you are now. You just have to learn to embrace it."

It's all very fresh in Nicky's mind. As he sits there, reliving his sister's kind arms and her condescending tone, he feels himself get hot with anger. "Well, I don't," he says. "I don't have to buckle under like you did. I'm nobody's defenceless bit of fluff. And I’m taking my life back into my own hands, you understand?"

"Good for you, dear," says Gil mildly.

Nicky sniffs. "You’re not mad at me?"

"I probably would be if you spoke to me like that in real life, but this is still happening inside your head. I’m just a part of your memory, Nicky. And soon this memory will be gone, and then the one before that, and the one before that… all the way back to when you first met him."

Out in the storefront, the glass flowers start to explode into clouds of light and colour. "See? It’s being erased right now." Gil speaks, but her face is gone, her hand is gone. The couch disappears from under Nicky, and he falls…

He lands on his back on a sticky floor, among cigarette butts mean-looking boots. _Oh good,_ he thinks, as they start to kick him. _I'm glad she's erasing this one._

It felt like an age, but maybe any time feels like an age when humans are kicking you and spitting on you and calling you those kinds of names. Nicky wasn’t sure exactly what he’d done -- cast a spell in view of the humans, probably, or at least attempted it. Maybe made a pass at one of them, too. They wouldn’t have liked that. That would explain some of the things they were yelling when the bouncers finally came to pull them off him.

Then he was outside in the cold with the snow swirling in his eyes and his own blood freezing on his clothes.

"Is _this_ yours?"

The hand holding Nicky up by his collar vanished, and he crumpled, only to be caught at the last second. He slumped in Sidney’s arms and nuzzled towards his chest, looking for warmth inside his big grey overcoat. Sidney thrust him backwards, gripping him by the shoulders. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Nicky giggled. "I’m just having some fun. Making some new friends. You’re not jealous, are you?"

Sidney shook him like a rag doll. "Pull yourself together, Nicky, for god’s sake. You’re a mess."

Nicky didn’t like being shaken. He stopped giggling and frowned instead, screwing his eyes shut. "Stop it," he slurred. "Leave me alone. You’re hurting me!"

"Come on. We’re going home."

Gripping Nicky by the arm, Sidney started to march him down the sidewalk. Nicky stumbled and struggled and twisted in his grasp. "I don’t wanna go with you," he whined, "I don’t wanna go home. You’re not my dad and you’re not my husband!"

"You’re drunk, Nicky. You’ll feel better once you have something to eat and get some sleep."

"Shut up! Let me go! I said don’t wanna go home with you!"

"What were you even doing in a place like that? You know very well you people aren’t welcome there."

"I don’t even know what my people are anymore," Nicky moaned. "I’m turning human and it’s all your fault. Why shouldn’t I go to human bars if I’m going to be a human now?"

"Because you don’t fit in. It’s too dangerous."

"If I can’t be a warlock and I don’t fit in with humans, where am I supposed to go?"

"Right now, you’re going home with me. You’re not too badly hurt, are you?"

"My legs are killing me. And it hurts to breathe. I felt something go crunch in my chest."

"Well, it’s your own stupid fault." Sidney stops and frowns. "Hey, I never said that. Stop putting words in my mouth."

"You were thinking it, though," Nicky accuses. "You thought it served me right for throwing a tantrum and running off on my own. I could see it in your eyes."

"You were drunk as shit! You couldn’t see anything."

"Well, I could hear it in your voice, then. The contempt. The way I couldn’t even defend myself. You thought I got what was coming to me."

"You’re projecting."

"And you… you were starting to hate me. The weaker my powers got, the less you liked me."

"What?"

"I used magic to make you like me in the first place."

"But that was just one time, and then I started liking you for real. It’s not like our whole relationship was one long enchantment."

Nicky trembles. The ground trembles with him. "It started out that way, though. What if the only reason you ever loved me at all was a knock-on effect from that first enchantment? And when my powers started going, you started… waking up…"

"Christ, Nicky. If you’d brought this up in literally any other circumstance, we might have been able to talk about it." Sidney sighs as holes start to appear in the road. "Instead this night is about to disappear from your head forever."

"But there are lots more memories to go."

"Yeah, for now." The buildings start folding flat like they’re made of cardboard and the streetlamps snuff themselves out one by one. "But she’s working fast. By morning you won’t remember me at all."

Nicky looks away from the collapsing skyline and back to Sidney, but he’s not there. Queenie takes his arm, and the snow has stopped swirling and the street has stopped disintegrating, just for a moment.

"It was very hypocritical of you to give Gil such a hard time," Queenie said. "Now you’ve got a human gentleman friend of your own."

Nicky scoffed. "Gil's soft. Shep even more so. Me and Sidney, we're not like that. We're just having fun together while we wait for the book to come through, that's all."

"Hmm," said Queenie. "I thought Gil nixed your book."

"Yeah, but then she went and lost her powers, silly bat. So we think we might be in with a chance again. We're waiting to see if the curse wears off before we send it around to potential publishers."

"You've been waiting the better part of a year, dear. If it's ever going to wear off, don't you think it probably already has?"

"Well, better safe than sorry. Hold on, I need to pop in here."

"What for?"

Nicky paused in the doorway of the herb store, letting the heat out. "I want to grab something nice to put in Sidney's cocoa. He’s not very well. Poor sap still hasn’t adjusted to the climate."

Queenie pointedly didn't say anything. When Nicky rejoined her on the sidewalk, parcel of pick-me-ups sticking out of his coat pocket, she took his arm again and they strolled on towards home.

"Nicky, dear," said Queenie slowly. "Lately I've noticed that you haven't been… that is…"

"What?"

"Only I don't mean to pry into your business, or for you to get upset with me."

"Spit it out, Auntie. I promise not to fly into a rage." Nicky laughed, but his good mood was secretly starting to curdle.

Queenie spoke carefully. "I just mean that you haven't been up to your usual tricks, that's all. It's been a while since I've seen you interfere with the traffic lights, or lock a policeman in his car, or… or do any magic at all."

Nicky looked straight ahead and didn't say anything.

Queenie's voice got even more delicate. "Well, like I say, I don't mean to pry. But do you -- do you think maybe your powers might possibly be just the tiniest bit -- on the wane?"

Nicky swallowed. It took a long time, much too long to fool anyone, but eventually he forced himself to laugh. "On the wane? Auntie, don't be so silly! You're not accusing me of falling into the same trap as Gil, are you?"

"I… no, but…"

"Don't even think about it! I could snap my fingers right now and make the Statue of Liberty dance a jig. I just haven't been in the mood for magic lately. That's all."

Queenie tittered. "Well. That's a relief."

As they came to a stop outside Gil's store, Nicky rooted around in his pocket for the front door key. "Isn't it just," he said, smiling grimly.

Up on the second floor, Nicky slammed his apartment door shut. Without pausing to take off his coat or shoes, he stomped past Sidney's study and into the kitchen. He turned on the gas in the stove -- snapped his fingers two, three, four times -- gave up with a muttered curse and struck a match instead. He poured some milk into a saucepan. While he waited for it to heat up, he started unwrapping his parcel from the herb store.

Sidney appeared in the doorway wearing his pyjamas, empty mug in hand. He looked only slightly rougher than usual. "Thank god you're home," he mumbled. "When you’ve done that, heat up some water for the bottle. I feel like I'm dying."

"You're not dying," Nicky said flatly, and snatched the mug from him. "I got you some stuff to drink that's gonna make you feel alright."

"Oh. Thank you." Sidney shuffled awkwardly. "Do you mean…"

"I meant some stuff from the herb shop," Nicky snapped. "Haven't you got enough whiskey? Didn't I leave you with enough of that cheap stuff to kill a horse when I went out this morning? Jesus Christ. Keeping you drunk is turning into a fucking full-time job."

For a while Sidney just stood dumbly in the kitchen doorway, blinking at Nicky. "Are you okay?" he said at last. "You seem like you're kind of…" He waved one hand.

"I seem what?" Nicky demanded. "What?"

Sidney shrugged. "Angry."

"I'm not angry," Nicky snarled. "I'm just --"

"Hey," said Sidney, "the milk."

Nicky whirled around to see the milk foaming over the edge of the saucepan. Panicking, he waved a hand at it; nothing happened. _"Fuck!"_ He stormed over, grabbed the handle and slammed the saucepan off the heat, sending boiling milk sloshing onto the stove. _"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"_

There was a long silence. Nicky stood over the stove, breathing hard, with his back to the door. Behind him, he heard Sidney groping for words. "Nicky… if you want to talk about it, baby…"

"Don't call me that!"

"Sorry."

"And no, I don't want to talk about it. I've been telling you about all my shit ever since I met you and you've been sucking it out of me into your stupid notebooks and now you've finally got the last of it, alright? You can rest easy now 'cause you finally drained the last spark out of me." Nicky clutched his head and whirled around to face Sidney, who was still standing in the doorway, looking like he'd been punched in the stomach. "Are you happy now?"

"No," Sidney said. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

"My powers!" Nicky spat. "You took my powers, just like that man took my sister's away, and now I'm just like her -- weak and soft and -- and totally dependent on you. That's how you human men like it, right? Defenceless bit of fluff to keep house for the great writer? And I'm not even good at it! _Fuck!"_

Nicky barged past Sidney and stormed towards the apartment door. He was caught around the waist before he reached it. "Whoa there," Sidney exclaimed, turning the smaller man to face him. "Sweetheart, can't we talk about this?"

"Let me go," Nicky yelled, shoving at Sidney's chest. "Let me go, stop it, get your filthy disgusting hands off me! I'll curse you!"

"Where are you gonna go?"

"I'm going out! I'm _not_ dependent on you, I lived twenty years of my life without you and I never needed you to have a good time before, and I don't need you to have a good time now!"

"Just promise me you won't get into any trouble."

"I don't have to promise you anything! I'll get into trouble if I want! It's my turn to come home dead drunk and you can pick up the pieces, how d'you like that?"

Sidney frowned and stared into his eyes. "Just as long as you do come home."

"Of course I'll come home." Nicky looked away, arching his back to get his face as far from Sidney's as possible. "It's my apartment too, y'know."

The arms slip from around his waist and Nicky staggers to the door. He pauses in the threshold and looks back. "You didn't react," he says. "When I threatened to curse you. You didn't seem scared."

"No."

"That was what made me angrier than anything else. It was like you already knew it was true. That I'd lost my powers, and you didn't have to listen to a thing I said."

"You think I only ever listened to you because I knew there was the possibility you'd _curse_ me?"

Nicky looks down, struggling for the words to explain. "You were holding me," he says at last. "And I couldn't get away until you let me. If you hadn't let me, I never would've gotten away."

"So?"

"It feels different. Living with someone who can hold you like that, who could hurt you if he wanted. Who's got all the money and fame and I've got nothing at all. Magic was the one thing that ever made me feel like I was on a level footing with you."

"But if you'd only said something. I would have promised never to do it again, never to hurt you."

"And you could have broken that promise any time," Nicky sighs, "and I couldn't have stopped you."

When Nicky slams the door behind him, the whole building folds up like an origami crane and sails away into the night.

* * *

On the four-poster bed, Nicky is passed out on his back, wearing one of his old suits. Gil knows it’s old because the fabric is cheap and thin, and his belly is poking out the bottom on his shirt.

"We had to get rid of everything Sidney ever gave him, including the clothes," Mrs De Pass explains. "Don’t worry -- he’ll slim down again once he’s cured. Love has a tendency to make boys fat." She casts a meaningful look at Shep, who nervously folds his arms across his middle.

"That is not the concern here," Gil seethes. "The concern is that you’re messing around inside my brother’s head."

"But he asked me to, dear."

"That doesn’t make it alright! He’s scared and confused, he doesn’t know what he wants. He’s just looking for an easy way out, and you’re enabling him!"

"He’s an adult. He can make his own decisions."

"Not until he’s mature enough to face the consequences of them! All this proves is that he’s still a baby who tries to run away every time he gets frightened!"

"You made your choice, Gillian." Mrs De Pass folds her arms. "Nicky didn’t like it, but he respected it. At least have the decency to return the favour."

Gil stiffens.

Shep puts a hand on her arm. "Darling… she has a point. It's quite possible that Nicky just isn’t cut out for a relationship. And Sid, he deserves another chance, doesn't he?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he might want to take another stab at settling down, getting married, having kids. Being normal. He seemed happy enough playing house with Nicky, but a man can't live his whole life that way. Maybe setting them both free is the kindest thing."

"Shut up," Gil snaps. She turns back to Mrs De Pass. "How much have you already erased?"

* * *

Even in a city of seven million people, there is a moment in the dead of night when the noise stops. On the last warm night of the year, Nicky snuffed out the lights on the Manhattan Bridge so Sidney could kiss him in the dark.

"Gil's jealous," Nicky smirked, as they stood arm in arm and looked down at the river. "She's missing her powers already, and it drives her crazy that I use mine for this kind of thing."

Sidney smiled sleepily. "I can't think of any better use for them, myself."

"No, me neither."

One by one, the lamps started to flicker back on. Nicky looked around and frowned as the bridge lit up like a Christmas tree. "That's funny. That trick normally lasts longer."

"Oh, don't be embarrassed," Sidney chuckled. "It happens to every guy sometimes."

Nicky smacked him on the arm, making him laugh harder. "I can't help it," Nicky cried, "I'm just not very powerful! I never told you I was… I don't know, fucking… Merlin, did I?"

"Hey, look. I'm glad you're not. Merlin had that whole long beard thing going on."

"Not your type?"

"No, no, not for me." Sidney cupped Nicky's cheek in one large hand. "I like a babyface. Like this one."

"You big softie."

"You're so cute, Nicky. The chubby cheeks, the soft skin, all of it. You're so cute that I, I don't know what to do with it sometimes."

"You usually think of something," Nicky purred. "So if I ever want to get rid of you, I just have to stop shaving, is that what you're telling me?"

"I don't think that would be enough. You'd have to change a lot more than that."

Nicky smirked and dropped his eyelids flirtatiously. "Well, what else do you like about me? Just so I know where to start."

"Everything," Sidney murmured, "I like everything about you."

"Bullshit."

"I do," Sidney insisted, "I like everything. Have I ever lied to you? I like you exactly the way you are, Nicky."

"Not possible." Nicky giggled and reached into Sidney's pocket to take his hand.

Beneath them, the river starts draining away. Nicky feels himself start to tear up. "I wish I'd never known," he whispers. "I wish it never happened at all."

"What's the quote?" Sidney pulls him closer. "Better to have loved and lost…"

"It's not true," Nicky squeaks, "it's not true. Better to never know what you're missing."

"But you weren't missing it that night, were you?"

Nicky sobs and buries his face in Sidney's chest, which disappears before he can reach it, leaving him standing alone in the middle of a disintegrating suspension bridge.

* * *

"Sir. Sir? Time to wake up, sir."

Slowly, Sidney feels himself rise up to consciousness. He cracks his eyes open against the cold white lights and wipes some drool off his chin.

"We've arrived in Acapulco, sir. It's time to disembark."

He looks up at the stewardess leaning over him. She looks back, nose wrinkled. She thinks he's a bum and doesn't care if he knows it. Fortunately for her, Sidney is well used to being looked at this way, and right now he's got more pressing things on his mind.

He opens his mouth, tongue moving like a dead fish, and formulates all his confusion into a single word: "Acapulco?"

"That's where we are, sir. All the other passengers have already disembarked."

"Wh… what am I doing here? How did I get here?"

The stewardess exhales hard through her nose. "You boarded the plane at JFK. The plane took off and flew to Mexico. We landed."

"I…" Sidney looks around and notices she's right; he's the only passenger left. He starts fumbling with his seatbelt. "I'm sorry," he mutters. "I'm… I'm just a little confused. I think I may have eaten something that disagreed with me."

"I'm sure that's what it is, sir," the stewardess drawls, helping him to his feet. "For now let's focus on getting you off the plane, shall we?"

* * *

"I, I would like to make a speesh."

The room obediently fell silent as Sidney lurched to his feet. It was one of the many funny things about him that the more he drank, the more effortlessly he could command a room; something about a large man swaying from side to side with a lit match in his hand tended to make people sit up a little straighter. He spoke with the soft, slow confidence of a man who believes absolutely in whatever insane thing he's about to say.

"Gillian and Shepherd," he slurred, "are doing a very brave thing here today. Some might even say a foolish thing. Isn't it sort of the same, when you really think about it? Brave and foolish. I tried it, y'know, and now I'm paying fucking alimony, but it's okay because I'm doing alright. But I didn't know that at the time! I mean that I didn't know I would be doing alright. I was just a newspaperman then and I didn't consider the risks."

Nicky looked at Gil, who was staring down at the tablecloth with one hand on her forehead. Shep was looking up at Sidney with an incredulous half-smile.

"I didn't consider the risks," Sidney repeated, "but then I also didn't consider the, the… the positive risks. There's the risk that, you know, the bitch divorces you. That's a risk. But there's also the _positive_ risk that you'll get lucky and make a ton of money and meet someone new, you know? The world is full of crazy possibilities you never even considered. Things you thought were impossible -- people you thought were impossible."

The match burned all the way down and singed Sidney's fingers. He yelped and dropped it on the tablecloth. Nicky quickly put a plate over it.

"Anyway, I, I guess all I'm saying is that the future's uncertain. It's good and it's, it's bad sometimes. So good luck, kids. You're very brave and very foolish. And I salute you for that, I do."

Sidney sloshed his glass into the air then straight to his mouth. There was a smattering of nervous applause as Nicky stood and took his arm. "Thanks for that, Sid. Now, let's get you some fresh air, shall we?"

Outside in the parking lot, it was too hot for suits. They shrugged off their jackets and loosened their ties. Then Nicky lit a joint while Sidney threw up.

"Feeling better now, sweetheart?"

Sidney groaned, doubled over with his hands on his knees. "If I can't get drunk at a wedding, when can I?"

Nicky chuckled. "You don’t have to justify yourself to me. I say the more you can do to disrupt this miserable farce, the better. But my sister might take a different view."

"She doesn't hate me, does she?"

"No, Sid, no! She doesn't _hate_ you. I don't think she was expecting you to make a speech, given you weren't technically even invited, but…"

"I was invited!"

"As my date, sure."

Sidney wobbled upright, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Well, whatever," he mumbled. "Being a date is basically being a guest."

"Except you have to dance with me."

"I'd dance with you anyway. You don't have to bribe me with champagne and cake for that."

Nicky blows a cloud of smoke over his shoulder and smirks. "This should have been an early warning," he says, "when I still liked you after this. You were a fucking mess and I still wanted to be with you over any of the people in that room."

"The people in there were all boring," Sidney points out. "You wanted an excuse to get out anyway."

"True. But I was glad you were my excuse."

"Was this the day they invited us to move into the second floor apartment?"

"Yes. That was before you ruined their wedding reception."

"But we still took them up on it!"

Nicky grins and takes another drag. "It was too late for them to change their minds." He looks down and sees that the vomit on the concrete is gone. He looks up and sees that Sidney is gone. Bored of the speeches, Nicky came outside for a smoke -- alone -- and that's all there is to it.

* * *

The sky outside is just starting to grow light.

"It's too late," says Queenie softly, putting a hand on Gil's shoulder. "If there was anything I could do, I would try, for you. But I'm not powerful enough to go inside anyone's head, let alone his."

Gil just sits there, staring down at her brother.

His eyelids are flickering like he's dreaming, but he's not dreaming. He's watching the year flash by as the single most significant part of it is stripped away from him.

"I wish he'd listened to me," Gil whispers. "Just for once in his life, I wish he'd listened. If he'd taken even one week, just to wait and see how it felt, instead of rushing straight to a decision…"

"That wouldn't have been very like Nicky," points out Mrs De Pass. "Some people really don't care to change, I suppose."

Gil glares at her. "You'd better not be charging him for this."

"No, no, purely pro bono. I couldn't stand by and ignore a sweet young man in such acute distress." She shivers. "There's something really bone-chilling about a warlock crying. It's just not natural."

"It's nearly morning. You may as well finish the job."

Mrs De Pass lays her hands on Nicky's forehead and closes her eyes.

* * *

This street has a sense of finality to it. Sidney stops to look at a barbershop, his big coat swirling behind him, and the barbershop crumbles into dust. The city is disintegrating around them.

"And the typewriter. I've gotta get a typewriter."

"I'll loan you mine."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"That's, uh, very friendly. Thank you."

Friendly, yes. Nicky laughs in his friendliest way. "Listen..." He takes Sidney's arm. "You missed something off your list. This is a lonely city. You need someone." He gazes up at Sidney, the smell of smoke in the cold air just like he remembers. "You need someone who'll keep you company and warm at night. I'll not good for much, but I can get you there tonight, and tomorrow night as well, if you'll let me."

Sidney stops and looks him doubtfully up and down. "Listen, kid…" He rubs his neck and leans in conspiratorially. "I don't see it working out, long-term."

"No. But it could be good, couldn't it? Just for a little while?" Nicky shivers. "When you looked at me like that," he says. "Like you were… measuring me."

Sidney shrugs. "Well, I had to inspect what was being offered."

"I wasn't really…" Nicky licks his lips. "I mean. I was. I would have let you take me right here. But I didn't mean for you to know that so quickly."

"I was a little dense, wasn't I? Did you think I was an idiot?"

"Yes," Nicky admits. "A very attractive idiot. I'm sorry. Do you mind if I reassess?"

He takes a step back and takes one last look. Up at the tangled hair and the untamed moustache, the patient smile, the dark eyes looking down at him, intense curiosity softened by a haze of booze. Tries to recall the clumsy, suffocating weight of this stranger atop him; settles for imagining it, as he did that first night, and imagining it to be wonderful.

Sidney waves awkwardly, just lifting his hand and wiggling his fingers. "So long, Nicky,” he says, looking sad and confused by the words even as they leave his mouth.

"Bye, Sid," Nicky croaks.

* * *

Sidney finds the key to his old house in his trouser pocket and lets himself in. The place has lain undisturbed for one year, almost to the day -- ever since last Christmas, when he suddenly dropped everything to fly to New York. He hasn't thought about it once in all that time.

He moves slowly through the darkened rooms, coughing as his footsteps throw up clouds of dust. He searches his coat for cigarettes, and finds them, along with a single sheet of paper, neatly folded.

He lays the paper out on his kitchen table and lights a cigarette.

_Sid,_

_I can't do this. I just can't._

_I'm sorry I yelled at you and for the mean things I said and I'm sorry for doing this without telling you, I know it's cowardly but if I wasn't a coward I wouldn't be doing it in the first place._

_Bianca is going to make me forget about you. By the time you read this, it will already be done. It is not reversible. Trust me that this is for the best and we will both be happier apart, you will meet someone else and live a good human life, I will go back to being a third-rate warlock who doesn't know any different, I was happy that way._

_Thank you for taking a chance on me and that night on the Manhattan Bridge, for a minute it was dark enough to see the stars. You told me you liked me for exactly who I was, I said I didn't believe you but I believed you. Nobody else ever made me feel like that before._

_Don't come back to New York. Or if you absolutely have to, stay away from us. You never really belonged anyway._

_All of my love,_

_Nicky_

_P.S. Good luck finding a publisher for the book. If you do, keep all the money. Fuck, that really hurt to write, so now you know I'm serious._

* * *

"The book on the desk, and the scissors!" Queenie grabs them and flutters over. "Who are you going to try it on?"

"The man who wrote this book. Sidney Redlitch."

"Where is he now?"

"The wrapper says he lives in Acapulco."

Nicky cranes to get the best view he can of the picture. It’s not a good picture; it makes Redlitch look mean. He never looked mean in real life. At least, Nicky doesn’t think he did. He’s having trouble remembering.

"Any words?"

"Says not."

All that’s left now is the photograph in Gil’s hand, and the faint knowledge that this surly-looking slob would mean something to him, one day -- did mean something to him, once. It's plausible. He always was attracted to trouble.

Gil spreads the ointment over the photograph, obliterating it. The moment it’s covered, it’s gone. Nicky looks at the silver smear and tries to conjure something -- what colour were his eyes? Didn't he have a moustache, or something? -- but he may as well be trying to pull a face out of thin air.

Gil lights one corner of the photograph and drops it in the bowl. A jet of green fire shoots up towards the ceiling.

Nicky murmurs, "Who are we banishing?"

Gil corrects him: "We’re not banishing. We're summoning. And I just told you, his name is Redlitch."

"Who’s that?"

"It doesn’t matter. You don’t know him anyway."

Nicky follows the green fire with his eyes and feels a big, dopey smile spread across his face. It’s a beautiful spell. Who cares what it's for? There's nothing in the world like a well-executed bit of magic.

* * *

Between songs, Nicky bounds over to their table and kisses them each on the head. "Hello, kittens. Having a good night?"

Gil just nods. Queenie smiles nervously. "Lovely, thank you, Nicky. And… how are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling like someone shrank this suit in the wash, that's all." Nicky tugs at his shirt, threatening to burst the lowest button, which is already straining valiantly to keep his stomach covered. "I _know_ I can't be getting fat, 'cause if I had the money to get fat, I'd spend it on a new suit!"

"Don't worry about that," Gil says quickly. "I'll buy you one. A late Christmas present."

"Aw, but Gil. The congas were already way too generous!"

"It's fine. And I'm refurbishing your apartment while I'm at it. The place is a dump and it's half-empty."

Nicky shakes his head, baffled. "Well now, what's gotten into you? You've been perfectly content to let me live in squalor ever since I moved in. Did you win the lottery while I was busy onstage?"

"Sort of, yes." Gil tilts her head. "Earlier today, a customer in Mexico wired in… quite a large order."

"Aha, so you're feeling generous because you've shifted some stock, then?"

"Some stock, yes. All of it, in fact."

Nicky does a real double-take. "All of it?!"

"All of it. And I'm _certain_ the customer would like me to spend the money on my baby brother."

"I'm certain he wouldn't," Nicky laughs, delighted. "But what the hell! Here's to my rich sister and her new favourite customer!" He takes a sip from Gil's cocktail and smooches her on the head again. "Right, I've got to hop back to the band, but I'll check in again later to make sure you haven't changed your mind."

Queenie pats him on the arm. "Break a leg, Nicky."

"I'll try not to. My legs kinda feel like they've been broken already." He rubs his chest and grimaces. "And there's this stabbing pain every time I breathe in too hard. Think I must've fallen up the stairs after one too many, maybe."

"Yes, that sounds like you."

"Oh well. My luck's finally turning around, isn't it? I think the Sixties are going to be my decade. Ha!" Nicky snaps his fingers over Gil's drink, turning it gold. "See you later, Croesus!"

He winks and skips off towards his friends in the band, leaving Queenie and Gil to make silent eye contact in the gloom of the club.

"That's a nice trick," says Queenie eventually, pointing to Gil's cocktail. "I must get him to show me how it's done."

"You can finish it," says Gil flatly, pushing the glass across the table. "I should be getting home before my husband starts to worry about me."

"You won't stay for just one more song?"

Onstage, the band has started up again. Nicky sets a quick pace, grinning and rolling his eyes, lost to the world. Gil shakes her head. "I've heard this one a million times," she mutters, pulling on her coat. "I hate the way he plays it."

Gil stalks off, leaving Queenie alone.

The Zodiac is busy tonight, but the table nearest the stage is empty.


End file.
